The Muggle
by TigerofRobare
Summary: Colt Bowie is an American who has just moved to Privet Drive. What happens when he stumbles onto the Wizarding World and tries to reveal it? And just how will his plan to save the neighborhood from Dudley go?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I do not own _Harry Potter_ or associated copyrights. They are owned by JK Rowling. This story is for entertainment purposes only, not profit.

The Muggle

By TigerofRobare

Chapter One

After that first hectic week in Little Whinging—involving some bizzare miscommunications, tripping over a large number of cats owned by an elderly lady next door, and the usual flurry of activity that accompanied moving—Colt Bowie was able to do some observing and make adjustments to his new enviroment. Observation was key, his father was always reminding him. The first thing he observed was that England in late June was not as bad as travelers' tales made it out to be. In fact, the weather was degrees better than his previous life in Massachusetts.

The second thing Colt observed was that the people who lived across the street were the stupidest and most hypocritical he had ever seen. The parents—a big, beefy man with no neck and a tall, thin, bony woman—spoiled their son, a behemoth of a teen-age boy with apparently no desire whatsoever to either sire children or live to the age of thirty and a criminal streak utterly ignored by the parents.

After that home-sickness set in. Colt suddenly grasped on an intuitive level that he would only rarely see his friends again, that he would probably never see his beloved Red Sox play at Fenway again. And because why? Because his father had to accept a professorship at some stupid medical school.

During his bout with homesickness the neighbors across the street—the Dursleys—invited the Bowies to a welcome-to-the-neighborhood party of sorts. Colt's parents were both atired in conservative work clothes, as was Mr Dursley and his son Dudley while Mrs Dursley was wearing the ugliest summer dress any of the Bowies had ever seen. Colt, however, had little use for formality and wore a Hawaiian shirt and cargo shorts.

He could tell the Dursleys were _displeased_ with his choice of attire by the shadow of disapproval that passed over their faces for a fraction of a second. _They like conformity_, Colt observed.

After a good meal and a fine dessert consummed mostly by Dudley Mr Vernon bid the Bowies adieu with a warning. "My nephew is returning home in a few days, Mr Bowie. Be wary of him. He's not quite _normal_."

"Not normal?" said Dad, "How?"

"He's not right in the head, you see," Mrs Dursley added.

"He sees things that aren't there," Dudley interjected. Mr Dursley glarded daggers at him, as though he had said too much.

"I'm a rather talented neurosurgeon," Dad said. "If you'd like I could examine your nephew free of charge."

"I don't think surgery will fix things," Mrs Dursley said. "It's genetic—my sister had it too, poor thing."

Colt almost laughed. The sorrow in her voice was too good. _Why isn't she an actress?_

"Because of his—er—_abnormality_, my nephew Harry is the terror of the neighborhood," Mr Dursley said. He adressed Colt, "Watch out for him."

Good-nights were exchanged and later, in the privacy of their own home, Dad asked Colt: "What did you notice?"

"They're lieing, obviously," Colt said half-heartedly, "and Dudley is the terror here."

After the conversation Colt went to bed. With a new mystery the home-sickness was lifting. _Harry—abnormal—hallucinations_. His mind took in all the information he knew of "Harry." It was good to be occupied.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

The emerging mystery that was Harry deepened the next day when Colt was awakened around nine by the sounds of a huge rowe taking place in Number 4. He opened a window to take in more and caught Mrs Dursley yelling about someone or something being "UNNATURAL FREAKS" and Mr Dursley shouting "NO MORE OF YOUR KIND HERE AGAIN, BOY" followed by a younger male voice—not Dudley's—shouting back: "COUPLE OF WEEKS" and "…MY FRIENDS" this was in turn followed by a young famale voice yelling "LISTEN TO REASON, PLEASE?"

_I wonder how well I have them pegged_, Colt thought as a truly malicious idea took him. He threw on some clothing, wolfed down a piece of toast and ran across the street. He saw the grossly fat shape that was Dudley waddle down the street towards the park. _Who could be so concerned about mental illnesses and yet so insensitive towards the sufferer? Someone who knows there's really nothing wrong_.

He made his way up Number 4's walk and was just about the ring the doorbell when the clearest yells he had yet heard came through. Mr Dursley shouted ". . . GOOD RIDENCE TO HIM!"

Three voices responded: "NEVER INSULT ALBUS DUMBLEDORE IN FRONT OF US!"

Colt decided that was the most inoppertune moment and pressed the buzzer. He could _hear_ the panic and the glares, but not the whispered threats. Mr Dursley opened the door. His face was a disgusting shade of purple, a vein was throbing in his forehead, and his lack of neck was plainly obvious. Before he could tell off Colt, the teenager said:

"Really Mr Dursley, it's much to early to wake the neighborhood with such _weird_ arguments. Plus, I've met some of the kind people my Dad's treated and quite frankly I'm appalled that such a respectable and upstanding citizen as yourself would behave in such a _freakishly_ insensitive manner."

"Er," Mr Dursley said.

Colt was laughing on the inside now. He wished he had a camera to capture the look of indecision on his victim's face. He was actually surprised at Mr Dursley's response.

"You're quite right, Colt," he said, trying to seem calm, "but I'm sure you realize that being a caregiver is very trying on one's nerves," Colt nodded, "and I guess the strain was too much for me today, since my nephew has unexpectedly brought two of his friends here from the special school we send him too."

"I see," Colt said. _Did I misinterpret him?_

"Come in, let me introduce you," Dursley said. He opened the door to reveal three teenagers, all apearing about Colt's age. One of them had unruly jet-black hair, emerald green eyes, wire frame glasses, and Colt caught sight of a scar on his forehead. The one standing next to him was a tall, thin, lanky boy with the reddest hair he had ever seen and a great deal of freckles. The third was a girl with bushy brown hair and eyes that glowed with knowldege. Mr Dursley continued: "My nephew, Harry Potter, and his friends Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger."

"Charmed," Colt said, nodding his head in the direction of each.

Mr Dursley's face began to regain some of the purple color it had lost at the sound of that word. Colt took that as a que to beat a hasty retreat. The door slammed shut behind him. Colt was pleased with himself; he had pushed the right buttons and got a completey unusual response from Mr Dursley, poked yet more holes into his story—_If Harry is that dangerous, and presumably the others suffer similar ailments, then why would they be allowed visit?_—and had discovered a new mystery: _Why was Mr Dursley so outraged by the word "charmed?"_

Colt turned it over in his mind while he walked to the park. He honestly could not make heads or tails of it and decided that asking would not be profitable line of inquiry. He quickly spotted Dudley leading a gang of others who seemed only slightly less fat than himself. They were smoking and collecting stones. Colt was not surprised.

There was a yonger kid there, eyeing Dudley and his gang suspiciously and staying close to the bike rack. He appeared about twelve and had rusty brown hair. Colt glided up to him.

"Hey. I'm Colt. Just moved in on Privet Drive."

"Mark Evans. Good luck evading Dudley."

"He a real bully?"

"Duh," Evans said. "He boxes at school. I learned that the hard way a couple years ago."

"He beat up a ten-year old when he was fifteen? What'd you do?"

"I gave him some cheek. I said he looked like a pig in a wig that'd been taught to walk upright."

"But that's true!" Colt laughed. "Actually, no—it's an insult to pigs."

Mark laughed this time and nodded his head enthusiastically. "Dudley's a real terror. You don't pay him an' his gang _and_ keep quiet about it, they beat you to a pulp."

"Has anyone ever tried to stand up to him?"

"A couple times, but no one's ever tried to do it twice. Harry's the only one he's ever feared."

_Hmmm, what would make Dudley afraid of such a skinny little nothing?_ "They tried to fight him, didn't they?" Colt asked. Mark nodded. "A wise person once posted on the internet: 'Never argue with idiots, they bring you down to their level beat you with experience.' Same thing here. You got to fight braun with brains."

"Dudley's too stupid to be outsmarted well."

"I meant pranks. That's how you get bullies in America. Why is he afraid of Harry?"

"No idea. If you can think of some way to get Big D and his gang, count me in."

"Will do."

Colt returned to his house to plan. His summer was getting more interesting by the hour.


End file.
